* * *
Look. I know Amy Winehouse has her fans and probably many of you love her, but I listen to her music and it ain’t my bag (“Yeah, well what do YOU know? You like COUNTRY MUSIC, you goddamn hick!”) and I see the hair and it ain’t my bag “Yeah, well what do YOU know? You wear oversized t-shirts and baggy shorts and YELLOW AND BLACK STRIPED BOOTS where people can SEE you!”), and then I see pictures like this one:
and I whimper and run away and hide.
I don’t get the Winehouse lurve, but y’all just rock on with your bad selves, I s’pose.
* * *
I’m recently reading this book called This Day in the Life, which I bought – I think – because Melissa is in it somewhere and I like Melissa, and I thought the idea behind the book was an interesting one. It’s more interesting in some parts – the parts done by the 79 year-old woman married (for 18 years) to her second husband, and the one done by a female firefighter, in particular – than others.
ANYway, there’s one bit written by a woman named Monica and she talks about her daughter, and her daughter’s name is Ronica. And I am enthralled by this idea, by giving your child a name that rhymes with your own by just changing the first letter. It saddens me a little that it never occurred to me until now to name my own child Flobyn.
Hell – if I’d had several kids, they’d never accuse me of going down the list of names before I got it right, the way ALL parents did. Instead of going “Flobyn – Zobyn – Chobyn – Shlobyn – I mean, get OVER here, Thobyn!”, I could have just gone “::cough::OBYN! Get over here!”
Think the spud would let me change her name?
* * *
Edited to add
This morning, Fred woke me up before he left for work as he always does.
“I fixed the shower!” he announced. We’ve been having an issue with the shower draining slowly these past few weeks.
“Oh yeah? How?” I asked.
“I was in the shower, and I am such a…” he paused and stared off in space to search for the correct term.
“Douchebag?” I offered, and then snickered for so long at my own wit that I don’t even know what term he came up with.
Is it wrong to be so amused by yourself?
* * *
Also edited to add
One day last week, my sister offered to me that I am the most normal person in our family. I demurred, because I don’t exactly feel normal all the time. The next morning while I was talking to Fred, I told him what she’d said.
“Bessie,” he said gently. “She said the most normal person in your family, didn’t she?”
“Yeah….?” I said.
“Well. That’s kind of like saying that Alec is the most talented Baldwin.”
“HEY!” I objected, and then couldn’t help laughing. Because the truth is FUNNY.
* * *
Okay, clearly I’ve not got much to say. So I give to you two movies. The first is me, using my camera to make a short movie of a chicken taking a dust bath. Chickens take dust baths to, ironically, keep clean. It gets rid of mites and other little critters that can get under their feathers.
Anyway, I was shooting this video, got distracted by a closer chicken, and then looked back at the dust bathing chicken to see that she was being pecked at by another chicken. At the very end, I say an annoyed “HEYYYYYY!” at the pecking chicken, and I sound like the biggest hick on earth. Enjoy.
And this one is just a video of the chicken taking her dust bath (tell me she doesn’t look like a cat, rolling around like that), with the added bonus of Frick running into the movie at the end.
* * *
My nephew sent me the link to this video, and even after repeated viewings, it makes me laugh like a goon.
and I whimper and run away and hide.
I don’t get the Winehouse lurve, but y’all just rock on with your bad selves, I s’pose.
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